


The Abridged History of Aada Douglas

by jaybyrds



Series: Gardenverse [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Mermaids, Sirens, Strained Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 01:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9469367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaybyrds/pseuds/jaybyrds
Summary: A mermaid with a darker side among her people who have long since abandoned archaic violence. [Not very graphic, but tagged so just in case.]





	

Water whispered, talked, but it hadn't yet said what she wanted to hear. It eddied and swirled up above, gossiping, willing her to listen, and she did, but it still wasn’t what she was looking for.

Light slanted through the water above, turning from dapples on the surface to dapples on her skin. Her fingers brushed over the rock she was laying on, chasing grains of sand out of the tiny dimples texturing the stone. And the light, above, the light--

But that wasn't her, now that she considered it.

"Light," it came again, sounding remarkably like her own thoughts. She sat up, swishing her tail to pull herself upright.

Light That Touches The Surface, just Light to nearly everyone, opened her arms immediately. Chasm Deep Below settled into her arms with practiced ease, curling up against Light's side. "You left without me," Chasm accused, though her tone was anything but mad.

"I needed to wait for something," Light said, and, "I'm sorry." She stretched out her hand to brush Chasm’s hair back.

In reply, Chasm captured one of her hands between both of hers, clutching them absently. She was dark where her sister was pale, her skin tone a handful of shades deeper than Light's own. Her head tipped back and her hair, as black as the thing she was named from, fanned out behind her.

"What was it?" Chasm asked, just as the water finally told Light what she'd been waiting to hear.

"This," Light said, releasing Chasm. She pushed herself off the wide, flat rock and sped towards the surface, where waves had gathered and kicked up froth. A shadow fell over their faces.

Chasm made a sound of muted horror as she realized what Light meant and raced after her. Her hands locked back onto Light's arm. "Light," she said firmly, fearfully. In response, Light pulled them both higher, towards the surface. "Don't," Chasm said.

"Do it with me," Light said.

"It's not allowed. You can't let them see you. Don't."

"I want to practice," Light said firmly, and breached the surface. The boat the waves had herald was there, moving sedately just a few strokes away. Light had to take a moment to adjust to the air, so different from the water. Then she sang.

"Light," Chasm said, strained, her voice strange out of the water. It sounded muffled, dimmer. Light sang loud, projecting, louder, as loud as she could. The boat slowed, turned. Chasm wavered at her sister's side. Her breath caught funny in her throat. Then she was gone, just a brief splash to mark her vanishment. Light couldn't look away from the boat to watch where she went.

Humans wouldn't understand her words, so she sang none. She pushed intentions into her voice instead, singing to mean _Come, come_ , and they did. The boat stopped in front of her. Humans leaned over the side, staring wide eyed. Light's song changed. It said, _hello_ , and they stared, entranced. Light wondered what else there was to sing.

She put in a question, just to see what would happen, if they would listen. _Join the water_ , she sang, because anything more concrete was unintelligible and too hard. She left out the edge that was an order, added more of a lilt, a query. _Join the water?_

One of them stepped up on the railing of the boat. Another reached out, grasping its arm in a loose, dreamy way. A yes then, from one at the very least. Others shifted like they wanted to. Light smiled, showing teeth like razors. They balked, and she sang louder, having dipped in volume when they were close enough. The humans settled. _Safe_ , she sang, and they were. They were, even if Light didn't want them to be.

But Chasm was right below, watching. Light loved her, trusted her, but this was a secret, and if Light did what she really wanted to, it might be too much of a secret, and Light couldn't risk that.

 _Safe_ , she sang again, and then the song changed, lancing up in pitch. _Forget_ , she ordered, a hard edge to her voice. _Forget_ , she sang again, and then she was gone under, and didn't watch them anymore.

She drifted back down, letting the water lower her until she was laying back on the stone slab. Next to her, Chasm was staring after the board as it confusedly drifted in the surf. Light smiled at her and the unreadable expression on her face.

“Don’t tell,” said Light softly. Chasm said nothing, only watched the boat as it began to move away again. Light brushed her fingers through Chasm's dark hair and finally Chasm moved, settling next to her on the rock again, curling slightly inward. Light welcomed her, victory and affection mingling in her throat and widening her smile back into razors.

* * *

 

Light sang when she could, wherever she could, whether Chasm was there or not. She didn't try it on humans again, not for a long time. Alone she spelled fish into following her to their deaths by octopi, and those octopi into the jaws of eels, just to see what would happen. With company she made a picnic of a passing school.

Her mother praised her voice, though there was the subtlest touch of wariness in Sea Star's eyes. Light only ever smiled. As long as she was careful, Sea Star could be as suspicious as she wanted.

It was elsewhere that she kept her biggest secrets. There was a reason Light had claimed her rock, and it wasn't just because of how nicely remote it was, hidden in a swathe of sand and surrounded by seaweed on all sides. Beneath it, between rock and sand, Light had concealed a tunnel. Under a carefully woven pad of seaweed, covered by drifting sand, lay Light's lair. Many of her pod had their own places, coves and caves and dips in cliffs. Light's just happened to be more private than others.

She kept another lair, for appearance's sake, and it held mostly trinkets: pearls she had scavenged, particularly nice shells, scales from her and Chasm's tails had hadn't splintered during a molting.

The other contained less frivolous things. A bubble of air at the top was kept replenished with sea grass, and glowing crystals her people had been growing for centuries kept the small cavern lit.

At first she had simply used it for open-air singing practice, where Sea Star couldn't hear her and scold her. But now...

"Why would you need to sing above water?" Light mocked in her cavern, stirring the water with her tail. "There's no need at all. Such archaic traditions the sirens held in the past have no bearing on our present. We're better than that," she continued, jerking in annoyance when her visitor thrashed. "Shut up," she told it, annoyed. When it didn't, she sang her meaning and it stilled. With all the work it had taken to get the human underwater and into her lair without it drowning, she was in no mood to humor it, even despite her heart pounding in excitement.

"Listen," she lilted to the human, and it did, though she knew it wouldn't understand. "I want to use my voice for all of its purposes, and not just the ones we have now. The sirens of old had those traditions for a reason, I'm sure." Light paused, eyeing the human. It was quite ugly. The things on the side of its head were boring. Immobile as far as she could tell, they were nothing like the fins her people had. Its lower half split in two, not quite as unusual as it had seemed at first; she knew that some Mer species had two tails. But these seemed useless and ineffective for.. anything. Perhaps not on land.

Its eyes were round and dewy. Water leaked from them at first, but that had stopped; Light couldn't figure that part out. The pupils were huge, and the rest was two-toned blue and white. They weren't even particularly nice shades of blue and white. Light wondered what they would taste like, anyway. She enjoyed fish eyes.

She reached forward and found out. "Shut up," she sang at it again absently when the horrible bellowing noises it was making proved to be distracting, and "Don't move," when it attempted to lash out. It's eyes were actually very nice, despite the ugly design human changes had given them. She decided to save the other for later. It wouldn't do to blind the human quite yet.

Her lair would be unusable for a long time after this; that was fine. Light could wait. If she was careful, if she did this right, today would hold her over.

Her claws were wrist deep in the human's abdomen when Chasm found her. Light had broken her promise already; the other eye had joined the first when she began to feel peckish. Scraps of human flesh were stuck in her teeth from when she had chewed through the human's wrist. It had fought free of her song and struck her, and she had taken the necessary actions, and hadn't wiped away the aftermath yet. Chasm made only the barest of noises when she had swam through the tunnel. Light swiveled around, inadvertently ripping open the human in her haste. For a moment, only the slightest, she and Chasm stared at each other.

Then Chasm was gone, the flash of her olive green tail around the bend the last thing Light saw of her. She felt sick with regret as she turned back to her human. She had never wanted Chasm to see this. She had hidden away for a reason. She sighed at the human as it thrashed weakly. She doubted the rip in it was survivable. With a heavy heart she settled her stomach with its throat.

Light could guess what to expect when she left her lair and returned to her pod. She spelled eels before that, sending them into the tunnel with the dead human to clean up the mess she had left.

Sea Star was waiting for her. There was no pride in her eyes now, only disgust. Two other Mer flanked Sea Star, and behind them Light could see Chasm.

Chasm made an odd movement when Light came into view, almost a flinch. Her hands raised towards Light, like she'd move towards her if only Sea Star wasn't blocking the way. Fear and guilt mixed on her face. "Chasm," Light said, mourning coloring her voice. "How could you?"

"Don't talk to her," Sea Star said. Her face was hard and lined with intensity. "Light That Touches The Surface, you are--"

"Banished?" Light guessed. Her mother's lip curled and Light smiled. She was right. The smile faded quickly. "Okay," she agreed. "I'll fetch my things."

Sea Star and her guard swiveled to watch Light as she swam by, to her auxiliary lair. In a bag of woven seaweed she collected her few belongings, feigning casualty though her heart pounded. Sickening guilt and betrayal warred in her, though she knew Chasm's reaction was to be expected.

Still. It hurt to be betrayed by the one and only person she loved.

Light shouldered her bag and swam away from her empty lair. She stopped in front of Sea Star again. Her mother's face was funny. She supposed it must hurt to have to banish a child, even one you weren't too fond of.

Light gave her another smile before turning her gaze on Chasm. Sea Star made a cut-off movement like to block her and Light fought down the urge to sing punishment at her mother. It wouldn't have worked. Mer were immune to siren song.

Light had meant to leave anyway. Not now. But soon. It was simple to move her plans forward, though leaving Chasm behind had never been part of them.

"Goodbye," she said, and meant it just for her. Perhaps it was wishful thinking that she heard her name whispered by Chasm as she swam away.

* * *

Light swam for leagues. Her travels took her months and weeks away from her old home, through pods of Mer and shoals of other, just as old beings; she lost track eventually, and never truly cared to keep tally in the first place. Vague word of mouth kept her moving, though it twisted and turned, keeping her guessing. Every rumor was more promising than the last, until they were no longer rumors, but fact.

"Teach me," Light told the witch, the source of nearly half a year of searching, of lines of rumor that stretched around the ocean. Storm That Tears The Sea only looked at her for a long time. Light fought her temper and just smiled.

The witch was ancient. Anyone could tell by looking at her, though she looked scarcely older than Light. Hunger clawed at Light, the desire, the need to know Storm's secrets. Storm said nothing.

"Please," Light tried, and Storm turned and left, swimming into her lair. Light followed. Storm didn't rebuke her. She didn't turn her away. It almost felt like Light was being ignored, and she wasn't fond of the feeling.

For three days Storm didn't speak a word to light, and Light said little to her. It was only later, a long time later, that Light even learned what her name was. She tried to make herself useful, spelling fish into swimming willingly to their deaths for Storm's meals, cleaning up when she saw a mess. The way Storm watched her, Light had the feeling that she had been lonely for a long, long time.

Perhaps that was why Storm finally broke. "Here," she said. "There, yes. Stay there. Watch," and that was how Storm began to teach Light, by showing. It was confusing, very confusing, at first; Storm had obviously never taught anyone before. Perhaps she herself had never had a teacher.

Still, Light picked it up. She didn't let herself not. The Moon rituals were easiest. Sachets were harder. Worship of the old gods hardest. Light had never been very reverent. But still she worked, did as Storm did, and learned. She devoured information greedily, watching Storm with a hunger that veered on lecherous. Perhaps Storm thought it was. She did nothing to stop it, and Light did nothing to dissuade the assumption.

They fell into a pattern. Storm lived like days were nights. In the dark of her lair it was easy enough. She woke when the Moon rose and slept when it did. Light had never held much of a standard sleep pattern. The adjustment to Storm's was a process, when Light was left to wake on her own. She managed.

Months passed and turned to years. Light mastered sachets, tiny magic-woven dips of seaweed spun into the arcane with ingredients Storm collected from around her lair. She learned how to thank the Moon. She developed a professional relationship with the gods Storm called her own.

"I can teach you how to voice one of your own," Storm said one day, and Light's heart pounded. Storm was no siren; she had no song of her own, but the magic still did not work on her. Light believed she could teach her anyway.

And Storm did. It took ages. It took longer than any other skill Storm had passed on to her, any other secret she had given up. Victory came when Light made Storm pick a shell off her lair's floor where Light had tossed it.

Storm dropped the shell immediately after, when the spell had let her go. She moved to Light, fingers reaching to stroke her cheek. She smiled. She kissed her.

Light did not react. Storm pulled back, expression wavering. Then it solidified again, into the easy-going, empty expression she always wore. They did not speak of it again, though Light began to see the longing glances Storm threw her way. Perhaps she had always seen.

Light could not leave. Storm still had one of her secrets left, she had admitted as much; though she still seemed as young as ever, sometimes she would disappear, and when she returned, she had gained an exuberance, nearly a youthful glow.

Light coveted that power, though she made sure to show no more greed than usual as she polished her arsenal of magical skills under Storm's watchful eye.

The witch had not given up her own coveting. She did not waver in her teaching of Light, even though the rejection stood sore between them, in a simultaneously stark and subtle, barely aching way. Light eased it. She grew gentler. Her touches lingered longer. She let Storm see things in her that simply weren't there. She let herself be wooed.

And Storm did. "Stay with me," she said, and gave Light her greatest secret. She did not see the razor smile that spread across Light's face. She saw only the softened version, the one that disappeared a moment later, pressed against Storm's own smile.

It was Light's turn to woo her. She touched Storm where the witch lead her, sang so the magic was subtle, a hint, a tiny gleam that glowed brighter until Storm was immobile.

Storm wasn't afraid. It struck Light as funny, how easily she had overtaken such an old, powerful creature. Light caressed her cheek, threaded her fingers through Storm's hair. Kissed her.

Ate her heart.

Light did it fast; the magic worked best while the subject still lived. Light swallowed the last of Storm's life while holding her hand.

Light wondered what Storm had expected. She looked down on her teacher's corpse for a long time, committing her to memory. Silver hair. Purple-gray eyes. Skin gray from blood loss, but Light remembered the true color nonetheless. Her scales matched her eyes almost perfectly. Light took some of them, plucking carefully to get perfection. Flesh went with them, just a little. That joined Storm's heart.

She kissed Storm one last time, softly, weaving magic into the touch, leaving a gift.

Light left with the dawn.

* * *

 

 At first she thought that the ceremony hadn't worked, that Storm's power had died with her. She knew it had worked when she swam for hours without tiring, when she called for a fish with magic and it died immediately from the too-powerful spell.

She'd mastered her new skills long before she reached her home shoal. It was just how she remembered it, and her thoughts hadn't been kind.

The first Mer who saw her swam for Sea Star. Her mother came immediately, flanked by the two biggest of her pod's guards. Light smiled at them.

"You were banished," Sea Star said, voice tight. Light ignored her, searching for a familiar form. Her smile widened when she caught a flash of dark hair and olive scales.

Sea Star's guard started forward at her command. Light's eyes flickered lazily towards them. "Stop," she sang, and they did. The look of horror spreading across their faces was the most beautiful thing Light had seen in years.

Sea Star snarled something and made to move toward her. Light ordered her quiet. Ordered her still. She had seen something even more beautiful. "Chasm," she said, without magic, with nothing but affection and coaxing. Chasm came, and Light saw that she had only needed prompting. Chasm stopped in front of her.

Light's hands raised to stroke Chasm's face. "I missed you," she said, sincere, the most sincere she had been in nearly three years. She had thought of Chasm every day for those years.

"You're not mad at me?" Chasm whispered. Light shook her head.

"No. I never was." Light's eyes flickered to the moving forms of Sea Star and her guards. Light sang them still again, pressing down, hard, too hard. They writhed in constrained agony, but they'd be fine. Light kept her hands on Chasm's face, gently keeping her from looking.

"I'm so sorry," Chasm said. "I never wanted her to make you leave. I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I was going to leave anyway," Light said. "But I didn't want to leave without you. I regret that." She pressed a kiss to Chasm's forehead. "Come with me now," she urged, no music in her voice, just an earnest plea, a want. "I've learned so much, Chasm. Come with me. I can teach you."

Chasm's face flickered. It was hard for Light to catch the meanings. Sadness, maybe. Wanting. Almost, almost, a resolution. Her heart lifted. She and Chasm would never be apart again.

"I shouldn't," Chasm whispered. The smile on Light's face disappeared. Her hands fell from her sister's face. Chasm reached for her. "I'm sorry," she pleaded. Light only shook her head.

"I won't make you," she said. She could. She could force Chasm to join her and maybe away from the shoal Chasm would follow willingly, maybe away from Sea Star she'd realize she never wanted to be apart from Light either. But she would never do that, not to Chasm. Chasm would be the only one free from Light's song. "I love you," she said, instead of that.

"I love you too," Chasm said. She flicked her tail to lunge forward and catch Light's hands. Light had to smile at that, affection twisting her insides. She kissed Chasm's forehead again, gently extracted a hand from her sister's grip, and brushed her hair back from where it had begun to float forward.

Light would not be coming back here. She had the whole rest of the world to explore, and Chasm had made her choice. "Goodbye," Light told her, pulling her other hand free from Chasm's grip. "Goodbye," she said again, and realization bloomed on Chasm's face.

"No," she said, but Light told her, "Stay." There was no song in the word, but Chasm stopped nonetheless. "Light," she said, pleaded.

"Chasm," Light said back, just to say it. Just so the last thing her loved one ever heard from her was her own name.

Storm's power propelled her through the water faster than Chasm had any hope of catching up to.

* * *

Light pulled herself up onto the beach on new, trembling legs. Her face was set in a scowl, sneering hatred for the lesser form of a human. Gone was her tail and most of her scales. Her ear fins remained, though her hands were webless. She covered the rest of her Mer features with glamours, replaced with plainer features. She'd made her decision. Now she had to live with it.

She ignored that it was entirely possible for her to drop the spells. That it was still possible for her to revert her legs back to their natural form and stay in the water, where everything was light and the air didn't drag her to the sand. Breathing air was disgusting.

Her hair dripped steadily down her back, the sodden mass pulling uncomfortably at her head and getting in front of her face. She almost got back in the water just to get rid of that indignity.

She looked up when a human spoke to her. It stopped in front of her, waving to get her attention. Its face was creased and it was frowning. It took a moment for Light to understand the expression: worry, concern maybe.

Light looked down at herself. She was naked, and the human was wearing those silly heavy drapings that dragged them so nicely to the sea floor. Possibly that was some sort of social faux pas, not to wear them. She beckoned the human forward. She wondered what it was doing out, with the moon shining. Weren't humans diurnal?

It came toward her, reaching a hand out to steady her arm as she wavered. She caught its face in her hands and slammed their foreheads together.

Not the neatest way to complete the spell she had cast, but she doubted the human would let her be gentle with it; she had learned that the necessary contact often came across as intimate.

She listened blearily as it garbled angrily, clutching its head. She'd only come away with a minor headache herself, but then she'd been expecting the blow. She waited as the human's cursing turned intelligible. "..fuck! Fucking-- What the hell? Are you serious?"

Some of the words made no sense; she supposed they were colloquialisms. Her travels amongst the Mer had taught her that language, even the same language, varied amongst isolated groups, and the knowledge spell didn't grant her contextual information for the words she had pulled from the human.

It-- he? Was it a he? She'd have to learn more about how they categorized themselves on that level. The human glared at her. She tried to defuse the situation. "I'm sorry," she said, stammering annoyingly on her first words of the language-- English? The new things she knew told her it was called English. "I slipped. I didn't mean to."

"Whatever," the human said, and glared balefully at her. "Just-- Whatever." He could obviously tell she had lied. She would have to be careful about that. She wondered how different it would be to lie as a human than a Mer.

But another thing: The human had been rude. She pulled a word out of her new arsenal and sang, "Trip," and he did. He landed face-first into a particularly high mound of sand. He came up spluttering and spitting. Light smiled wide and ordered him to give her his clothes. Horrified, angry, he shoved sand-plastered piles of cloth at her. She was pleased to know she knew what the individual pieces were called. She left him the very last thing he wore and walked up the beach into human life. 

* * *

 

Light bonked heads with a couple more humans as she observed human life, just to make sure her vocabulary was decently sized. She gleaned more things: the barter system in this new culture, for one. Money was odd. Mer usually traded, if need be.

But money, odd as it was, fascinated her as well. She witnessed a human playing a strange implement on a corner at one point, a thing that made music without singing. It-- She? Perhaps a he-- had a case open in front of it. Them. As people passed by, some would stop to listen. Sometimes they dropped their money in the case and then moved on.

Light wanted money, too. She'd watched humans spend it in the things called shops, and she wanted to try it. She could order individuals to give her what they had, but that seemed inefficient. Instead she took her cue from the human who was playing the-- the instrument, the spell supplied-- and set up on the side of the street. She procured her own case from a passing human and, after dumping out the contents into a trash can, laid it in front of herself. She waffled on what to do. Sing, obviously, but should she attempt human words? She didn't feel confident enough for that. Intention-singing would have to do; it hadn't failed her before, and she was stronger now.

Curious humans glanced at her as they walked by. They got their answer as Light's mouth opened and she began to sing, wordless and loud. The buzzing chatter of the street eased as her song grew. She wove intentions into the spell, starting slowly at first with commands for attention, and then moving on to _Gift me_ and _Keep moving_ as the main ones. It hurt a little to spread her song out through so many people, but as she kept at it the hurt eased by and by. The case she had taken from the human filled up quickly and she changed her song, dropping the _Gift me_ and leaving only the _Keep moving_. She tapered off gradually, dropping all the spells, and the human street went back to normal. Light stooped and closed the case of human money, scooping it up with no small amount of glee. It had so much in it. She wondered what she'd do with it all. Maybe the human places wouldn't be so bad.

She kept herself from spending too much of her money, though she saw many frivolous human things she would have loved to take with her; she didn't have anywhere to put them, after all. But she did buy new human clothes. The ones she had taken from the human on the beach were ill-fitting and uncomfortable.

Figuring out the perplexing sizing system was a task in and of itself; the day was mostly gone when she finally exited a human shops with a decent outfit. She threw her previous clothes in the trash and continued on her way.

By then she'd decided that, at least for a little while, she was here to stay. Next task would be to acquire a human identity. She doubted her name would translate very well into a human one; the names she'd heard the humans call each other were all vastly different.

She found herself in a human shops-- shop?-- full of books. They varied greatly from Mer books, which were either scrolls, or much looser. And made of entirely different things, of course. She'd gathered how to read human language much in the same way she'd learned to understand it.

She pulled a book from a shelf and opened it. The words didn't interest her. A human, one of the ones she'd figured out worked in shops, asked her if she needed anything. "Names?" Light asked.

"Baby name books are over here," the human said, and led her over. Not quite what Light had meant, but maybe that was what they had. She opened a book to look for a name anyway, feeling mildly annoyed that she even had to.

Aada was the first listing in the book. It explained the meaning and origin as well, though Light didn't care about that. Aada. It would do. She didn't care enough to look at others. What name the humans called her would have no bearing on who or what she was. She closed the book and reshelved it.

Aada went to look at more books.

* * *

"Two portraits?" the artist said a bit hazily.

"Yes. If that's not a problem," Aada told it. Them. She still had trouble with that, a little, even all these years later. She hummed a little when the human looked doubtful. He nodded instead.

"That's not a problem," he said, the dreamy tone still in his voice. "What is it you're looking to get?"

"A portrait, and a smaller, more portable version of the same thing."

"Oh, yeah, then that's fine." The artist lead her back to a space that smelled vaguely of paint. He sat down at a table in front of an easel. "How big?" he asked, gesturing towards a wall of blank canvases of varying size. She picked two, one very large, and another very small. The artist had pushed back his easel and had spread a piece of paper in its place.

"Do you have a reference photo of what you want?" he asked. Aada shook her head. "Alright. I hope you're good at describing."

"I am," Aada told him, and started. "The same face shape as mine, almost exactly. In fact," and she sat down in a chair next to him. "Look. She looks like me. I will provide additional details in a moment." He looked at her oddly, but began to sketch anyway. After a moment, she stopped him. "No, her eyes are a bit more-- yes. Exactly like that. Don't draw the insides yet. The nose slopes more. Draw her smiling." The image came together slowly, more slowly than Aada would have liked. But then there she was: Chasm's face, rendered nearly perfectly to set her heart pounding. She'd chosen the right artist.

"Now. Her eyes. Cat-like pupils. No. Just do it," and she added an annoyed lilt to her song to keep him moving. "She is a mermaid. You know what those are. A pose, like this," and she demonstrated as best she could, trying not to feel silly.

"Am I drawing you as a mermaid?" the artist asked, and she stilled him with a sigh. "Nevermind," he muttered.

"Her hands are webbed," Aada continued. "Not fully-- the tips of her fingers are separate. Yes, like that," and then she described her tail, how the fins flowed and laid on her scales. He drew in the fins on the side of her head. He transferred the sketch to both canvases, and then attached the biggest one to the easel. Aada waited, mostly patient. She'd known coming in that it would take a long time.

"Let's make a palette," the artist said. He had pulled out his paints and spread them out besides the canvas.

"Black for the hair. The purest black you have. If any tint at all, use purple. It's the closest." He obeyed. "Olive green for her tail. No, darker. Yes, that's it. Her skin is a few shades darker than mine," and she had to submit for comparisons by the human.

"And the eyes?" the artist asked. Aada stilled.

"Yes. Her eyes. They're purple. No, look here. You will have to mix the paint specially. Here." She pulled a velvet box from her pocket and opened it. She had searched specially for the pearl inside. It was rare, very rare, a pearl exactly the shade of Chasm's eyes. The previous owner had not wanted to part with it. Aada had convinced her with song and money to give it up. She'd spelled the box, expensive like the pearl, to provide protection to it.

The artist looked at the pearl closely, obviously impressed by the size and quality of it. Slowly he mixed the paint, referencing the pearl every step of the way. She let the box sit in front of him; disinterest spells on it would keep him from touching it directly.

He mixed the purple perfectly. She really had chosen the ideal artist. He began to paint. Aada watched intently as he layered the color on, and Chasm slowly came to life. It was slow business, the painting. It took a long time. He worked on both portraits at the same time; while one was drying, he painted the other. They progressed together. Aada's fingers itched to feel the canvas.

Finally, too long a time, Chasm sat dually in front of her, lounging back on the rock Light had claimed for herself and her sister so, so long ago. Chasm looked just like she had whenever she and Light had talked.

"Very good," Aada said lowly, and, "Thank you," because Chasm would have wanted her to be polite, even in a culture she didn't personally understand. She paid him. She didn't use song to convince him to lower the price. For anything else she would have; for Chasm, she paid him more than his quote.

"Come back anything, especially if you have anything else interesting like that," the artist said, and she nodded. Perhaps she would. She was already considering a smaller piece, one of Storm and her last moments, how beautiful she had looked with her heart ripped out.

Aada left the artist's studio, planning to pick up the portraits in the morning when they were fully dry. She already had a place of honor set up for the bigger portrait. It was a simple matter to wait until morning to hang them in her home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This has a sequel I'm still working on editing, about Chasm. It should be done eventually.


End file.
